Dropping in–smack–into the middle of your world.
The silence crackling through my bloodstream.
Oh I can guess–you came to set something free.
But once again nothing but change; new teachers, new faces.
The boat you so carefully steadied. Rocked -
Knowing this feeling of empty seats with familiar socks and shawls.
Vanishing into the rain and fog.

You know, the one who pretended to have it all together.
Feeling again the loneliness of those who bowed and walked away.
Openly aware of those still here. All who hold you now….
How still can I be in this stilled world?
How still can I be in this still world?

Is it holding the old stories, being battered and beaten?
Or is it the lightness of being, which radiates in the 10,000 directions.
We who have arrived can only bow down to your truth.
But the height of the mountain that calls us all
Stretches out before us as our common destination.

February 28, 2012 Two Month-ers